More Aussie Fun (at our expense of course)

There’s been some good stuff coming from down under at the moment. There was today’s Big Bash Final, which was an absolute cracker (even if it was staged in Canberra for some bizarre reason), Stuart Broad’s faux pas about the minimum wage (stay humble folks!), and now this little ripper from 17th Man Diary’s Jeremy Pooley.

Sometimes I think Australian satire of the English establishment tops our own. Are we actually better than them at anything at the moment? … except tennis of course … go Andy!

The Prime Minister finished reading the Sports Pages of The Financial Times. “Get HRH on the telephone would you please Bernard”
“Yes, Prime Minister.”

A minute or two passed. The PM finished his cup of tea.

“Good Morning Your Majesty… I’m glad to hear it… I wanted to check. Is it true that the Head Boy down under, Abbott, has offered The Duke a Knighthood?”
“Yes David. Phillip was quite taken with it, very chuffed. Pretty good for a Greek! Ha, ha, ha. Being a Knight rather than a consort will encourage him to speak out, despite his penchant for the faux pas.”
“Very fine Your Majesty, very fine. But what’s the title for.”
“Something to do with the Duke of Edinburgh Award apparently. Ha, ha, ha.”
“What? Could you explain?”
“That’s all I know. Phillip couldn’t explain it either. He knows he is the Duke of Edinburgh. Only Dublin is further from Greece. Ha, ha. As for service to Australia, he’s been there a few times…”

There was a short break in conversation while the CIA changed tapes.

“Will you invest him.”
“I suppose I’ll have to. Damn embarrassing. The whole business is very odd David. No one consulted me…”
“Or me Your Majesty”, David added.
“I would have told The Monk he was stark raving bonkers. Or as bankrupt as a Greek. Ha, ha, ha…” The Queen added in a whispered aside “Thank God, David, we are not in the Euro.”
“Very true. The Mediterranean types make that impossible.”

There was another short break. The Queen was thinking.

“I mean why didn’t he knight Alastair Cook for services to Australian cricket?”
“I don’t know Your Majesty. The FO can’t figure it out either. They said we knighted a South African for services to English cricket. Anything is possible they said.”
“But that was when Kevin was one of us David.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. One of us.”
“Do I need to do anything to make my displeasure known?”
“Perhaps send The Monk a bill for The Duke’s upkeep. It will help my re-election chances in the Borders.”
“Do you think that’s such a good idea?”
“Perhaps not. It’s best to keep the Greeks under the thumb”
“Just like the French?”
“Just like the French.”

***

The ECB was in session.
“Next item: the BCCI case. Have our lawyers deciphered the Supreme Court judgment?”
“Yes. In a manner.”
“Well what of it, man. Speak up”, shrieked the old boy with the hearing aid. He was swiftly silenced by the Chair.
“We are all ears Downton.”

“Yes Sir John… Srivinasan exits the ICC or gives up his commercial interest in the CSK. The Court invalidated the changes to the BCCI rules Srivvy instigated. They have screwed him royally on ‘conflict of interest’.”
The old boy pouted. A drop of Pinot slipped from his pursed lips.
“What? Conflict of bloody interest? Never heard of it. Poppycock. Selfish interest made the British Empire what it is…”
“Did you say Umpire.”
“No thank God, unless you meant Indian Umpires. Damnation!”, he shouted slamming his fist on the table. “And I don’t mean their Gods. I mean the one strict English Methodist God.”

“I agree”, the Chair remarked. The ECB charter said nothing about equity, fairness or any other French principle. The ECB was a private body like the Masons, outside the law, natural justice, or judicial review. The Chair was also a Director of a High Street bank. He knew everything about conflicts of interest and duty. He walked over them every day.
“I’ve heard Srivinasan will stick with the ICC.”
“Power hungry egomaniac. What does he want, a knighthood?”
“India’s a Republic don’t you know.They don’t have knighthoods, only sports franchises.”
“When did the republic thing happen?” someone asked….
“Where’s my bloody knighthood”, the old boy stammered. He had been asleep. “I know someone in a treehouse in Tasmania.”
“Tasmania isn’t part of Australia, Winston.”
“Bugger. What’s for lunch? I’m hungry!”
“Quail and a cheeky little Bordeaux red. We have all afternoon.”

Jeremy Pooley

@17thManDiary